Heart of a Stranger - with Angela Buchdahl

You are listening to an art media podcast.

In almost every other arena, the left would be aligned with Israel.

What was confusing to me is that people could see what happened on October 7th and think that being on the side of Hamas was being pro-Palestinian.

It was so clear that what Hamas was doing was incredibly destructive to their own people and sort of cynically using their own people to hide behind as a strategy of their war.

Like the higher the death count, the more they were winning their cynical political strategy and PR strategy here.

And so, if you care about the Palestinian people, the idea that you would celebrate October 7th or be against Israel's fight to get rid of Hamas did not make any sense to me.

It's 9 p.m.

on Saturday, October 18th here in New York City, Shavuatov.

It's 4 a.m.

on Sunday, October 19th in Israel, where Israelis are beginning a new week.

Before the news update and today's conversation, just one housekeeping note: a reminder that this Thursday night, October 23rd, Amit Segel, Nadav Eyal, and I will be hosting our first live podcast together following the Israel-Hamas deal that was brokered by the Trump administration.

We will be together in New York City at the Striker Center.

From Jerusalem and across the Middle East to Washington, D.C., there are still a lot of unanswered questions about how this plan will be implemented.

And there is news developing as we speak.

In fact, Nadav and Amit will have news to update all of us on that evening.

Plus, we'll be getting into a lot of analysis about how we got here and where we go from here.

If you would like to attend, please go to the show notes and follow the Striker Center link to register.

Also, for Inside Call Me Back subscribers that will be in attendance, you will also be receiving a free autographed copy of Ameet's new book, A Call at 4 a.m., at the event.

So that's a pretty good reason to become an Inside Call Me Back subscriber.

Again, there's a link in the show notes to subscribe to Inside Call Me Back, and there will also be a link to attend the Striker event.

We look forward to seeing all of you there.

Now on to today's news.

On Saturday morning, IDF officials confirmed that the body of fallen hostage Eliyahu Margalit had been handed over by Hamas the night before.

Tonight, on Saturday, two more bodies were returned to Israel, but have not yet been identified.

If confirmed to be the bodies of Israeli hostages, the number of bodies still in the Gaza Strip would drop to 16.

While Hamas claims it is struggling to find some of the corpses, Israeli officials are skeptical about Hamas's claims that it cannot locate the bodies.

With one official telling Channel 12, quote, there is a double-digit number of hostages that it can return.

According to a report from Channel 13, an international team set up to locate the remaining bodies of hostages entered the Gaza Strip on Wednesday.

It's been less than a week since the living hostages returned to Israel and reunited with their families.

Most of the former hostages are still undergoing medical exams and care at three different hospitals in Israel, but on Friday, only four days after their release, former hostages Matan Sankauker, Omri Miran, and Matan Angrinz were discharged from the hospital.

Meanwhile, earlier today, a Doha-based senior Hamas official, Mohamed Nazal, told Reuters that Hamas cannot commit to disarming, but is open to a ceasefire that will last up to five years.

Natzal also defended Hamas's executions of political opponents in Gaza, which have been rampant since the ceasefire went into effect.

According to a report from The Guardian, Egypt is expected to take the lead in an international stabilization force that will manage security in Gaza once it is granted approval by the UN Security Council.

Turkey, Indonesia, and Azerbaijan are expected to be the other main contributors to this entity.

This all comes as the White House considers sending Vice President President J.D.

Vance to Israel on Monday to discuss the next phases of the Gaza ceasefire agreement.

The Vice President would hold meetings with top Israeli officials and may also be joined by Special Envoy Steve Witkoff and President Trump's close advisor and son-in-law, Jared Kushner.

Now onto today's conversation.

Today we are joined by Rabbi Angela Buchdahl, who is the senior rabbi of New York City's Central Synagogue.

Rabbi Buchdahl is one of the most nationally recognized rabbis.

In fact, she also has an internationally global following, a global congregation, a global virtual congregation.

On Tuesday, she is releasing her memoir titled Heart of a Stranger, an Unlikely Rabbi's Story of Faith, Identity, and Belonging, which is the subject of much of today's conversation.

In the book, Angela discusses the relationship between her Korean and Jewish identities, how she chose to become a rabbi, her relationship with Israel, and how how she navigated some of the most challenging political moments as rabbi of one of New York City's largest congregations with a special focus on how she navigated and led over these past two years.

Rabbi Angela Buchdahl on Jewish leadership, Israel, and her new book, Heart of a Stranger.

This is Call Me Back.

And I'm pleased to welcome to this podcast for the first time, Rabbi Angela Buchdahl.

Angela, welcome to Call Me Back.

Thank you, Dan.

Longtime listener.

And longtime friend.

That's right.

You know, I'm not allowed to say longtime friend anymore.

Rachel Goldberg Bowl says, I can't go around calling everyone a long time friend, but you are legitimately a longtime friend, even though Rachel thinks I've devalued the term.

So I'm holding this book here, Heart of a Stranger, an Unlikely Rabbi's Story of Faith, Identity, and Belonging, which I have read.

It comes out this coming week.

And we're going to talk about the book.

We're going to have a link to the book in the show notes.

I want to cover a lot, some of which is covered in the book, some of which is not.

So just to set things up in terms of where your head is at, we are now, we've just passed the two-year anniversary of October 7th.

Thank God we have just entered this new phase where all the living hostages are back in Israel.

And for the first time, I'm getting the sense that Israelis, in my conversations with them, they feel like they can breathe.

And so it allows us to have a little bit of a pause too over in the diaspora.

My question for you is over the past 15 years, you have been one of the most influential leaders in the Jewish community, in the diaspora.

How have these past two years compared to your pre-October 7th, 2023

experience?

The last two years have been more intense than any other period I've ever had as a rabbi.

And I would almost characterize it as like an extended grief process.

It was the kind of original shock and trauma and grief of October 7th.

But then there was kind of continual ongoing grief that was happening with continued loss of life of soldiers, reservists like away from families, people's upset about just the way anti-Semitism was rearing its head sometimes around the war and sometimes completely, you know, disconnected to the war.

And I think that in the same way that when you feel grief, you feel a little bit more emotional and raw, there's also this very interesting way that grief makes everything in life feel more vivid and more alive in some way.

So I felt both the challenging and the, in some ways, excruciatingly beautiful parts of like what it is to kind of feel like you're more raw and more open all the time.

I saw a level of engagement of my community.

like I've never seen before and a sense that this was more important to them than they ever realized.

Like sometimes you realize how much you love something when you worry that you could lose it.

And I think that that is part of the experience of what I know you've often called the October 8th Jews, but not just them, but even people who've been this in this all along, people who

thought of themselves as Zionists, but didn't really understand how much they really felt it until October 7th.

And it's been protacted.

And then I think people who had a different experience just around the way they saw anti-Semitism show up in their lives and in communities they thought they were deeply a part of, from cultural institutions to artists and writer and author communities to academic and scientific communities and you name it.

And so I think all of this made us as a community feel much more on edge and vulnerable, but also much more engaged in this way that like it mattered.

And that was deeply powerful.

I've never felt more that the work I do feels important and purposeful.

How much of that engagement was, you know, we're in a foxhole.

We're in a fight.

As our mutual friend David Ingber put it to me, Rabbi Ingber, he said, you know, after October 7th, Israel was at war, but we were under attack.

How much of it was just this, like we all of a sudden were in fight mode?

I definitely think that was a part of it.

I heard a lot of sentiment in the beginning of people in my community feeling like they only wanted to spend time with other Jews because it just felt safer.

And also they wanted to be able to talk freely about what they were feeling and didn't always feel comfortable in non-Jewish spaces talking about it.

But I also think that it was a sense of engagement that people people were reading much more about what was happening and showing up in services more.

And those things just drew them in deeper.

So there was a kind of a pull that was drawing people into community.

And once they got into the community, they realized this is powerful and this means something.

And I like the way that this is shaping my life.

I mean, we have never had so many people.

every Friday night at services.

So people maybe came at first after October 7th, but then they stayed.

And then it became a part of a new rhythm of their lives.

And you mean stayed through the two years?

Yes.

We have people in our, up to our balcony every Friday night.

That wasn't priest October 7th on a regular basis.

That was maybe a rare service with a special event.

Now you can count on every Friday night.

We have people fill the floor and go up into the balcony.

So it actually created new habits of Jewish life.

And that wasn't just about being pushed away.

That was actually about seeing the beauty and the meaning and the joy of being in community that might have started out of the trauma, but continued because because of something else.

What do you think the most important truths?

If you had to pick one or two, like what are the most important truths that October 7th revealed?

You can either take that as my question for you or you as a proxy for your congregation.

For me, a big reveal of October 7th is that anti-Semitism is just never going away.

I grew up.

you know, as what has been termed now as sort of the golden age of being Jewish in America.

And I literally thought in my, you know, five years ago that essentially that 10 years ago, anti-Semitism was just over, that America was exceptional of all countries in all Jewish history, that we had basically eradicated anti-Semitism.

And I think the ugly truth is that October 7th made me face in a way that I had never really been willing to face before, that it had kind of gone underground, but it had never disappeared and that it is resilient and it mutates and it's very much back out in full force in certain ways.

And I am shocked.

I don't know why I'm shocked by that.

I gave a sermon about anti-Semitism five years ago.

So I saw that things were happening.

I still did not expect it could look like this in my lifetime.

Angela, you get in front of your congregation soon after October 7th.

What did you say to them?

What did you want to say to them?

What was your message to them that you thought was most important?

That was such a hard sermon.

for me to write because I often think that a rabbi's job is to maintain a non-anxious presence and to help people feel hopeful and pull out of despair sometimes.

And I was despairing and I was not feeling particularly hopeful.

So I did what rabbis should do, which is I turned to the text and here we were.

It was, of course, October 7th happened on Simchat Torah.

So the first parshah after that for Shabbat was Bereshit.

It was a new beginning.

It was creation.

But really the words that stuck out at me were

tohu vavohu, that we were in some kind of like formlessness and void before there was anything real.

There was this chaos and destruction and that sense of instability that happens before anything real is formed really struck me.

But I also was struck by the fact that when I talked to my Israeli cousins and people in Israel that I knew and loved and I was talking to them in these first days,

their response to me was, Ein Milim.

There are no words.

Ein Milim.

And I kept hearing that refrain.

And then I opened up the the Torah and for our Torah portion.

And you see that God creates the whole world with words.

You know, vayomer Arunai.

And when God speaks, it creates.

And so this became the seed of...

a sermon that I didn't know how to write, honestly, of taking this idea that we don't have the words and that we know as Jews that words actually create worlds.

And I was watching the way that really unbelievably horrifying words like colonialism and genocide were being bandied about to create a narrative of what was happening.

And this was the week of October 7th.

This was not, you know, into a war.

And I was watching people call Hamas resistance fighters.

And I thought to myself, this is a perversion of a world that is being created through these words.

And then I also talked about what it meant to not use words, to hear the deafening silence of many people who have often been champions of those who are being oppressed, not willing to speak up for Jews in this moment, including interfaith clergy colleagues in my own city.

So this became the shape of a sermon in which it wasn't actually there to provide a lot of comfort.

It really was there to name a reality and to also charge us to understand the power of words in a moment like this to create the reality that we were seeing.

And I wanted to help people understand their reality.

And I think, you know, my job in that moment was to help make meaning of a situation that felt like it had no meaning.

And I turned to Torah to help me make sense for myself.

What I was struck by after October 7th is we had a number of guests on the podcast, some of whom we reached out to, some of which reached out to us, who were

very Jewishly engaged, many of them very observant, who were left-leaning.

And also by many very secular Jews who still identified as Jews, people like Scott Galloway, who I had on a couple of times on the podcast around then.

What I heard from all of them is the sense that they were being made to feel in some corners, not all, but in some corners, they're being made to feel that they had to choose.

That it was a dilemma.

You can either stand with Israel during this moment or being part of the liberal progressive movement in the U.S., but you can't be both.

And I'm sure you heard from some of those people, or you heard from people who were presented with that dilemma.

What was the way you were thinking about it?

What was your counsel to people?

And how does one react to it?

I think it is absolutely a false choice that you cannot be pro-Palestinian and pro-Israel.

I think I consider myself a proud progressive Zionist, and I believe that means Jews have a right to self-determination in their land.

Because I'm a Zionist, I actually also really believe that Palestinians have a right to self-determination as well.

This is like something we should be working for.

What was confusing to me is that people could see what happened on October 7th and think that being on the side of Hamas was being pro-Palestinian.

It was so clear to me that what Hamas was doing was actually incredibly destructive to their own people and sort of cynically using their own people to hide behind and as a strategy of their war.

Like the higher the death count, the more they were winning their sort of cynical political strategy and PR strategy here.

And so I think the false binary there is that if you care about the Palestinian people, the idea that you would celebrate October 7th or be against Israel's fight to get rid of Hamas did not make any sense to me.

It was very painful to watch progressive circles, though, champion maybe not Hamas, but to be so against Israel when in almost every other arena, the left would be aligned with Israel, which is a thriving democracy which enables a huge amount of protest within its own people and is an open society for LGBTQ Jews and Palestinians who actually end up in Israel because it's not safe for them where they are.

And it is a country which which is championing free speech and also women's rights.

When you look at what is happening in Gaza or the West Bank, the way their societies are being run, many of those values are not nearly at all aligned.

And yet it is only, the only access is how oppressed is this people.

And I've spoken out before about the fact that we would like to see the occupation over in the West Bank.

I just think that people are very naive about the long-term context of the security threat in which both sides have contributed to the situation.

So after October 7th, you went to Israel.

I remember you went on this trip, I think, with a group of rabbis very soon after October 7th.

And you have been there, I will say.

Five times since October 7th.

You're the only person I know.

I mean, I feel like you are competing with me in how many times you've been there since October 7th, because every time I'm trying to get a hold of you, you're like, hey, where are you?

I'm in Israel.

It's like, okay.

So why were you going there all the time?

You know, my friend Nisimi, who is a rabbi in Israel, said when I came in October, which was just, you know, weeks after October 7th and the first trip, he said, no one in their right minds would fly into a war zone unless you were coming home.

And you're reminding me that you're coming home too.

I know that Israel is my spiritual home.

And I also have literal family there and friends who are family for me.

And it felt deeply important to be there and to bear witness in a regular way and to show support in a regular way.

And I also felt responsible to not only come myself, but to bring people with me.

So each one of these was not just about my visiting, but about having a mission to sort of both lend support, but also to kind of introduce for some people the Israel that I know and love to people who needed to see it this way.

That is a beautiful quote.

It reminds me of the Michael Biton, the Jewish educator.

She has this line that has like like resonated with me from immediately after October 7th, where she was trying to describe that feeling we all felt, that pain we felt.

And Michael Biton says, that pain you're feeling, that's peoplehood.

The sermon I gave six weeks before October 7th on Rosh Hashanah.

In this sermon, I talked about a story from the Talmud in which there is a two-headed person, a conjoined twins, and the Talmud is asking the question of whether or not they have to wrap two sets of tefillin on their head or just one, because the question was, is this one person or two people when they've got two heads?

And they use a test that King Solomon had of pouring boiling water on one head and seeing if the other head would scream.

And I asked people in that moment, like this was when Israel was going through what I thought was the worst existential crisis of judicial reforms and the polarization and the kind of almost what we were calling, I think you called it, a civil war almost pre-October 7th.

And I said, Our head in Israel, which is like, you know, half of the community of the Jewish community of the world is crying out.

Is the other half in America?

Are we feeling that pain?

And I have to tell you that I'm not convinced that people were really feeling that pain on Rosh Hashanah 2023.

But I will tell you, six weeks later, when October 7th happened, people came and referenced back to that story and said, oh my God, for the first time, I understand what you're talking about.

I feel it in my gut.

It's painful to me.

And I said, You're right.

That's exactly it.

That is peoplehood.

That shows that we are actually one body.

We might be in two different countries, the vast majority of Jews, and, you know, 15 million Jews, seven of them in Israel, seven in America, one million everywhere else.

So this is almost like a two-headed community, but we share one body.

And October 7th, the pain of that reminded us of that.

So your first trip to Israel, I think, if I recall from your book, was when you were 16.

Is that right?

Mm-hmm.

On the Bronfman Youth Fellowship.

Okay, so tell us where you were as a Jew before that trip to Israel when you were 16, and then what that trip did for you and your, you know, the path in life that you ultimately chose.

I had a really confident Jewish identity at age 16, which is funny when you think about the fact that I was born in South Korea to a Buddhist Korean mother with a Jewish father.

And I was growing up in a tiny, like 300-family Jewish community in Tacoma, Washington.

But the fact that it was small, the fact that my father's family had been there for three generations, so I was already a fourth generation bot mitzvah in my synagogue, I felt like I was rooted.

I was, and not only that, I was the Jewish representative of Tacoma.

I was, my sister and I were two of three Jews in my high school.

So I, and I also happened to be like, you know, class president.

So they constantly called on me to be the Tacoma Jew.

And so it meant that I would like the minor at the Christmas assembly, or I had to like fight with my principal to take student body elections off of Yom Kippur.

So I really felt this sense that I was carrying Judaism from Tacoma.

So it was a little bit of a shock to the system when I went to Israel for the first time on a pluralistic program.

And I met people that I realized, I thought that I was like a super Jew because I was also, you know, BBYO president of my chapter and like leading songs in my synagogue.

But suddenly I met all these Jews who knew so much more than I did and were fluent in Hebrew and studied Talmud in their day school and lived in like essentially these like giant Jewish self-imposed ghettos in, you know, Brookline, Massachusetts or in New York.

And I suddenly felt like, wow, I really don't know enough.

And then I had Jews who came from a more traditional halachic system who without trying to personally offend, because I don't think that they were, said to me, you do understand, Angela, there's a definition of Jewish identity and it's traced through your mother's line.

So without a Jewish mother, you're not Jewish.

And to hear that when you're already like an adolescent and you're going to have identity issues anyway, but throw in the fact that I actually was like, what are you talking about?

I am the Jewish representative.

Like I'm the person who's been telling everybody what Judaism is.

And suddenly you're telling me I'm not a Jew at all.

It literally was a physically painful experience, like gut wrenching.

Yeah, like someone's like removing a limb.

Yes, pulling out the rug from underneath me.

It was sort of like everything I knew about who I was was suddenly being pulled out from underneath me.

I credit, you know, my mother's very strong sort of survival instinct and fighter instinct that at the end of that summer, instead of walking away from Judaism, I decided I wanted to be a rabbi.

And I think there was a part of me that was like, okay, if this is what it takes, I'm going to dig in way deeper.

And my mother, who knew how much pain I felt over the summer, because I was writing letters home.

just saying, people don't think I'm a Jew and I'm here in Israel and I'm, I love this learning I'm doing.

I, I love being in Israel, but I feel like, and by the way, everyone in the street was yelling, Yapo Neat, Yapo Nit after me, because I also, by the way, in 1989, no one had ever seen an Asian before in Israel.

Now it's different, but it wasn't that way then.

And I was like, just not Japanese.

Call me something else.

But, you know,

those were the oppressors of my Korean ancestors.

And so on the one hand, I felt like a complete outsider, outsider.

And on the other hand, I had never felt so at home.

Like, I can't explain why I immediately immediately fell in love with Israel and with Israelis and with Jewish learning.

So I stuck with it.

And I came home telling my mother and father that I wanted to be a rabbi.

And even though they were always big cheerleaders for anything I wanted to do and believed deeply in my abilities to do whatever and succeed, my mother was like in tears.

She was like, why?

Would you want to do that?

Why would you want to make your path so difficult?

Who's going to accept you?

Will you ever get hired as a rabbi somewhere when you're like a female Korean with a non-Jewish mother?

And honestly, you know, call it the idealism or the naivete of youth, but it also might have been that once I decided I wanted to be a rabbi, I literally never could think of anything else I wanted to do with my life.

So there were times when I wanted to stop being a Jew, but I still wanted to be a rabbi.

So I had to stay in it.

I have teenagers now and I...

I know when they have these sudden instant passions or decisions that they're going to do X or Y, but it's usually about what they're going to prove.

It sounds to me a part of this was like, I'm going to dig in.

These people say I'm not this.

I'm going to be this on steroid.

Yeah, there is a certain amount of that.

What has actually happened, though, the reality is you now touch so many people.

I'm floored sometimes by the reach you have, not just in your congregation, not just nationally, but globally.

You're one of the most recognizable, well-known rabbis in the world.

Could you have imagined that?

Not in my wildest dreams, Dan.

I knew that this is what I wanted to do with my life.

I couldn't think of something that would feel more meaningful, challenging, interesting.

Like I wanted to be immersed in the questions that rabbis get to think and talk about.

I was like, I can't believe there's a job in which that's what you get to do.

Immerse yourself in these texts, be with people and think about big questions of life.

Like that, I couldn't believe that's something you get to do.

And so I deeply, deeply wanted to do it.

I never in my wildest dreams thought i would lead a synagogue like central and i think what i realized is i spent so much of my young life feeling apologetic and almost embarrassed and ashamed of all that i didn't know i i couldn't play jewish geography because i was from tacoma washington and there aren't a lot of jews from tacoma and i didn't go to jewish camps and i didn't go to jewish day school and i didn't know hebrew very well i went to hebrew school but you know it was a twice a week program like most kids.

And by the time I got older, I didn't really know it.

And I felt like there were all these deficiencies that I had.

And of course, I looked different.

So everyone, everywhere I went would always ask me, how are you Jewish?

Every new Jewish community I went into, I was constantly treated like a stranger and an outsider.

And I always felt like this was my Achilles heel.

What I started to understand, and in some ways I actually fully understood it when I was writing this book, is you look at the Jewish story and the state of what the Jewish heart is to know what it's like to be a stranger.

And I just will like point out a couple of touch points because I think people forget this.

But, you know, the very first Jews, Abraham and Sarah, they are called by God lechlicha.

You have to leave your land, your birthplace, your father's house to a land you do not know.

And when they cross over the river, Ya'avor in Hebrew, that is where the word Ivri comes from.

So to be a an ivry, a Hebrew, is to be a boundary crosser.

And at some point, I realized that feeling like the stranger within the Jewish community might actually be the most Jewish thing about me.

And I realized even more that it became my deepest point of connection with other Jews.

Like, what was funny to me is I thought my experience was sort of that of like a unicorn in the sense that like nobody would know what it was like to have a Buddhist mom and look like an Asian and be from Tacoma and all these things that made me feel like I was so unusual.

But you dig a little bit beneath the surface and you start to talk to Jews and they tell me their stories of why they feel like they were an outsider in the Jewish community for whatever reason.

Of course, there are Jews of color of lots of different colors who've had this experience or they come from interfaith marriage.

But there are also Jews who have two Jewish parents and they say, well, I was gay and Jewish and I didn't feel like I fit in or I grew up really poor and my family couldn't afford the dues.

So I just felt like I couldn't belong in the synagogue or I have a disability and this makes a difference.

You just, you name it.

I literally had a Heschel student come up to me and tell me, I don't believe in God, so I've always felt like an outsider.

I was like, don't worry, plenty of Jews don't believe in God.

But just the fact that she was carrying that.

Mother, the essence of Judaism is struggling with God.

Yes, it's struggling, but it's also knowing what it's like.

to not get too comfortable and to actually feel like what it's like because it becomes the source of our compassion and our resilience and our creativity and our grit.

people made Jews the outsider, we figured out some other way to do it and we became creative.

And when we were pushed away, that's why we say we don't oppress others because we know what it's like.

So it actually becomes the Jewish superpower to know what it's like to have the heart of a stranger.

And it took me a very long time to understand that this is actually why I think I can be the rabbi of central synagogue, because I don't assume or presume that people feel a sense of belonging immediately.

I don't presume that you just know all the stuff or feel like you know enough Hebrew or feel like you know enough anything to feel like you're a good Jew.

I can't even tell you how many apologetic things Jews say to me about their Jewish life for one reason or another.

That's actually my first point of connection, I think, with most Jews.

And I think that's why I have ended up in a place like Central.

I recently had a conversation with Nadav Eyal where I asked him, what is one thing that Israeli Jews don't understand about American Jews that you wish they would understand?

And I said, what is one thing that diaspora Jews don't understand about Israeli Jews that you wish they understood?

Now, I want to ask you a variation of that question because you talk in your book about Jews by choice, then in America, this concept of Jews by choice.

And I just want to read one quote that I was moved by.

You said, Judaism is not just something you're given.

It's something you choose.

When the ceremony is over and the party guests have gone home, you will be left with a Jewish identity that is largely up to you.

How will you decide what it means?

Now, that is not something Israelis feel because it's everywhere in Israel.

It's in their schooling, it's at home, it's in the water, it's at the beach, it's in the air force.

It's in their calendar, right?

It's in their calendar, right?

I remember that line from Tom from Tom Friedman spoke from Beirut to Jerusalem.

In Israel, even the fighter jets are Jewish.

You know, it's like, it's like everything's Jewish, right?

But over here, nothing's Jewish except what you choose to make your Jewish life.

And so, I mean, in terms of nothing's Jewish in your own life, and I think this is what a version of what you're saying.

So can you talk a little bit about that?

What's so distinctive about being a diaspora Jew in terms of the having to choose what you make of it, what you do with it, and why, like, why that's something you wanted in your book, your readers to focus on?

I think today in America, every Jew is in some ways a Jew by choice, meaning they have to actively decide that they are connected to our people or going to take their role in the Jewish story.

I mean, I'm not going to say that someone who does absolutely nothing and never affiliated, never celebrated holiday doesn't get to call themselves a Jew.

Of course, they get to call themselves a Jew, but I'm going to guess that in a generation or two, their children or grandchildren will no longer call themselves Jews if there is nothing that is passed on.

You have to actually decide that it means something to you.

And here it is not in the water, as you said, and it is not in the calendar.

And it's not in the Air Force.

And it's not in the Air Force.

It's funny when I talk to Israelis and they'll ask me, are you religious?

And I will say, yes, I am.

But they don't understand that because they're like, but wait a minute, but you might drive on Shabbat to the west side for Shabbat lunch.

And I said, absolutely.

Or you don't live in Meh Sharim.

Yeah, exactly.

And you don't have payas.

And I think that that's a piece that Israelis don't understand, that being an observant Jew is not equivalent to actually having a literal halakhic life, meaning a literal.

life that follows what you would traditionally call Jewish law.

That doesn't mean, though, that I'm not actually making Jewish choices every day from like what I'm putting into my mouth, which is not traditional kashrut, but I am actually constantly, I have my own biblical kashrut practice, and the way I observe Shabbat, which I observe every week, but maybe not in the traditional way they would as well.

So I think they don't understand what it means to feel like you are a choosing, observant Jew that is not Orthodox.

And here's the thing that I wish Israelis knew: there is a form of Judaism, it doesn't have to be called reform or conservative, it's just not Orthodox, but is still rich and vibrant and is non-halachic, but is observant.

And I think that most Israelis feel like you either have to be religious, and that is dati in a very specific sort of way, or you're secular and you kind of don't want to have anything to do with it.

And so...

And it particularly upsets me when in the time of the judicial reforms, you had a lot of Israelis who, because the religious extremist right was championing a certain kind of Judaism, secular Israelis wanted to get even more distant from their Judaism.

And in fact, they said, well, I'm clinging to my secular values.

I said, oh, what are your secular values?

They said, you know, dignity for all people and egalitarianism and democracy.

And, and I was like, those are also Jewish values, you know, and the idea that that was secular values and that religious values were about oppressing the Palestinians or about somehow making everyone observe in a particular way.

So I think that there is a kind of Judaism that is so rich and beautiful that is thriving in America that I wish Israelis were able to also create for themselves as well.

I want to talk about one other message that moved me.

And I'm going to read here from your book, which I think this section is quoting from one of your, from a Dvar Torah, love your neighbor as yourself.

And you write, many people think that loving our neighbor is the hardest part of this command, loving your neighbor as yourself.

But focus on the last half of the verse.

Love your neighbor as yourself, as yourself.

It is a reminder that we can only love others as much as we love ourselves.

And you go on, if we have trouble valuing ourselves, we will be limited in how much we can value someone else.

Why that message?

I mean, I think actually this was a teaching that someone that I once taught actually brought up.

She says, what if I have a hard time loving myself?

Am I supposed to be limited in the way that I love someone?

Because she was highly critical of herself and unforgiving of herself.

And I realized that that might be the hardest part of that command is that if we really want to extend compassion and grace and forgiveness and all of that to our neighbor as loving actions, we have to actually begin with offering that to ourselves.

And as we grow that capacity to give ourselves that kind of compassion and forgiveness, I think we expand our capacity to do that for others.

You know, it's been painful when I watch, you know, kind of in this culture, which is so unforgiving right now, and when people are deciding that people who have made a mistake are to be discarded forever.

I don't think that God wants us to discard human beings for all time.

I think people actually...

Judaism believes that we always have the opportunity for tshuvah for return and God wants us to return.

And, but I think that it's amazing that when people become that unforgiving of others, then when they make mistakes, they beat themselves up in a way that is like beyond as as well.

So I just think we could all practice a little bit more compassion and forgiveness and beginning with ourselves.

Have you seen people in your own congregation or people just generally that you deal with in Jewish life lose faith in Judaism as a result of the last two years?

You talked at the beginning of this conversation about all the Jews who kind of came alive, metaphorically speaking, after October 7th in terms of their Judaism.

Did you see anyone move in the other direction?

I definitely saw people walk away from organized Jewish life because they didn't like the politics, you know, a hillel might represent around Israel or a synagogue might represent around Israel.

And, or they just wanted to kind of pull themselves out of Jewish life because they were angry at Israel's actions, perhaps, or they just also just didn't want to get into the fight.

I definitely saw people pulling away.

And I'll be honest, you know, I started this book five years ago during the pandemic when I started the book proposal.

And I didn't originally have an October 7th chapter, obviously, because it hadn't happened.

I, of course, can't have a memoir of a rabbi without an October 7th chapter because it became such a pivotal experience of my rabbinic career in some ways.

But I am not by nature a particularly political being.

I'm a spiritual and religious being.

And so my heart gravitates towards the parts of Judaism that actually enhance our spiritual life, that bring more wisdom to our lives, that actually make meaning of a chaotic world that help us relieve suffering and that's the part of judaism that has always been the most nourishing for me and the most interesting and the part that i think jews themselves know the least about i think that so many jews have actually developed their understanding of maybe israel's politics or um maybe current sort of fight against anti-semitism.

But the deep wisdom tradition in which Judaism has actually something to say to us about pretty much every aspect of our lives and living our life more richly and loving more deeply and understanding how to make sense of a world that can sometimes feel very senseless and hard.

That's actually the Judaism that I want to teach.

And that actually was the point of what this book was about was to do that.

I'll be honest that I wanted to write this Jewish spiritual teachings book.

And my book agent, who I hired soon into this process, she said, I'm afraid to tell you, Angel, you're not going to be able to sell that book.

So she said, but you know, make it a memoir and get the Jewish teachings in.

And she said, I think I could sell your memoir because you got, you know, kind of a unique, you got an interesting story.

So let's sell your story.

So interestingly for me, I resisted that at first because I wasn't wanting to make this a memoir, but she convinced me.

And then when I thought about this line that my Rabbi David Ellenson, Rabbi David Ellenson used to say to me, He said, all theology is autobiographical, which is the truth of our lived experiences, of course, impact the way we understand God and life and our agency and whether the world is good and whether human beings are good.

All of that is impacted by our life experience.

So in some ways, I realize that telling my story was an entry point for teaching my Torah of like the way I see Judaism.

And so that's why the book is formatted with narrative chapters, but with each with a Devar Torah.

But it's not a book just for Jews.

I hope not.

I really don't think it is.

My publicist was just saying, her Catholic mother is reading it.

I see it as a book that brings the wisdom of Judaism to all people in the same way that, you know, some of the best-selling spirituality books, like Pima Chodron, Deepak Chopra, you know, Eckert Toll, they're all teaching Buddhism for people who aren't Buddhists.

And I think, I hope that this is an accessible book of Jewish spiritual wisdom for people who are both Jewish and not Jewish.

Like, my wish would be that everyone would give a copy to one of their non-Jewish friends who they would like to help them understand Judaism a little more.

Okay, my last question for you, Angela, is we didn't plan, obviously, for this inflection point to be the backdrop for when we're speaking, meaning the war, God willing, is over.

As we talked about at the beginning, the live hostages, the living hostages are back.

There's a new sense of hope, optimism, opportunity for rebirth.

In terms of your congregants or the Jewish world here in the diaspora, What would your message be in terms of where we go from here?

How do we pick up the pieces of these last two years?

I can't help but think I'm going to have to speak tomorrow and we're once again at Shabbat Bereshit, right?

So we're back at the beginning.

And, you know, the psalm that is for Shabbat is Psalm 126, Shir Hamalo, Beshuva Don, Adonai, et Shivat Sion, Hayinu Kecholmim, which is the song of a sense.

When God brings the captives back to Zion, it's like we were like dreamers.

I think many of us feel like that's what this week has felt like.

It's like a dream, like a dream that I did not think we would see to see these hostages back.

And it is amazing.

The end of that psalm, though, ends with those who sow in tears will reap in joy.

And, you know, my colleague gave a very beautiful Yom Kippur sermon in which he talked about the fact that for Jews like of my generation and yours, Dan, we have been those who have harvested what people have sowed for us in terms of a rich life as Jews in America.

And actually now we're back in planting season.

Like we we have to be putting seeds in the ground to build the future that the next generations will be able to sow in joy.

And people did that for us.

And it might not be that we even get to reap what we sow in this generation.

It might be that it's going to be several generations before we get to sow that.

But I do think that what we need to is we have this opportunity with a new chapter.

We are literally in a new chapter, both for the Jewish people.

and in our Torah reading cycle.

And what we need to do is separate the light from the dark, as God did.

And like we have to actually have faith that what we plant, even with our tears, because I think that this story is not over.

We cannot give in to despair.

That is a beautiful, hopeful chapter.

And we're planting both for our generation, but also for future generations.

Beautiful.

Angela, the book is, or for our audience, the book is The Heart of a Stranger, and it is available now.

You can pre-order it now or will be available next week for going to stores and buying it, but you can pre-order it now.

I encourage all of our listeners to read it, it'll give you a lot to think about.

You may agree with it, you'll agree with some of it, you'll disagree with some of it.

That certainly was the case with me, but I got a lot out of it.

It's something like all generations should read it, young people should read it.

I mean, it's really quite powerful.

So, thank you for this conversation.

I can't think of a better pitch.

Thanks, Dan.

All right, thank you.

Thanks.

That's our show for today.

Just one housekeeping note: a reminder that this Thursday night, October 23rd, Amit Segel, Nadav Ayal, and I will be hosting our first live podcast together following the Israel-Hamas deal that was brokered by the Trump administration.

We will be together in New York City at the Striker Center.

From Jerusalem and across the Middle East to Washington, D.C., there are still a lot of unanswered questions about how this plan will be implemented.

And there is news developing as we speak.

In fact, Nadav and Amit will have news to update all of us on that evening.

Plus, we'll be getting into a lot of analysis about how we got here and where we go from here.

If you would like to attend, please go to the show notes and follow the Striker Center link to register.

Also, for Inside Call Me Back subscribers that will be in attendance, you will also be receiving a free autographed copy of Amit's new book, A Call at 4 a.m., at the event.

So that's a pretty good reason to become an Inside Call Me Back subscriber.

Again, there's a link in the show notes to subscribe to Inside Call Me Back, and there will also be a link to attend the Stryker event.

We look forward to seeing all of you there.

Call Me Back is produced and edited by Elon Benatar.

Arc Media's executive producer is Adam James Levin Aretti.

Sound and video editing by Martin Huergo and Marian Khalis Burgos.

Our director of operations, Maya Rockoff.

Research by Gabe Silverstein.

Our music was composed by Yuval Semo.

Until next time, I'm your host, Dan Ceno.